


The Land of the Living

by theheadandthekin



Series: The Land of the Living 'Verse [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadandthekin/pseuds/theheadandthekin
Summary: Crane tries out a previously untapped dimension of his Witness powers. It turns out to be a tough, if educational, exercise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post-S2. Trust me and roll with it. :)

“Awesome. Looks like that tire is—”

It was an absurd thing to focus on, but he was fixated on her ass. And not in a good way. It was so …

“—flat.”

The child, Molly, wrapped her small arms around his waist and squeezed. “Don’t worry, Mr. Crane. You won’t have to change it. Mom has _roadside assistance._ ”

He half-heartedly patted her shoulder. She was cute, and so very innocent, but all he felt was annoyance. He hadn’t asked for an adopted _instant_ family, had he? The only child he wanted …

“Hey, Crane.” He had to consciously not roll his eyes at Agent Thomas and the curled-lip expression that seemed permanently plastered on her face. “Can you keep M entertained while I handle this?”

“Of _course_ ,” he ground out.

It wasn’t their fault that any of this had happened; that distinction, of course, fell to him. As much as he despised the world into which he had fallen, he couldn’t just walk away from it … especially with a child now involved.

Why the mantle of Witness would fall to a child during the Apocalypse—why it was something that could be transferred at _all,_ upending everything he and Abbie had understood about the prophecy—was beyond him. He had _faith._ He had seen gods, and demons, and afterlives. Extraordinary and horrifying things. Mostly horrifying.

Despite that, he had trusted his calling, trusted whoever or whatever ordained it. But the past year had not merely tested whatever faith he might have had: it had destroyed it.

He knew he should at least be grateful for being alive, for having ready _replacements_ for his fallen comrades and lost family. He knew he was supposed to love them.

Molly kicked his boot, probably because he was staring off into the middle distance, hating himself and hating everything around him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He couldn’t tell a child—or her mother—that every time he looked at her, an image of Abbie’s gravestone floated into his mind’s eye, could he?

So he plastered on a gentle grin and kneeled down. “Certainly. As long as it’s neither permission to commit an illegal act nor … to get a pony.”

“Mom says no animals.” She looked suddenly shy, and he really did feel badly for her. “See, we’re already Witnesses together, right? But you’re around for a lot more than Witness stuff. Are you going to be my new Dad, too?”

Mercifully, before he could get anything out to confuse the poor child further, he fainted dead away.

* * *

“Crane. _Crane._ ”

He heard her beloved voice. Irritated, but still like an angel. He tried to summon an image of her, tried to open his eyes to see what gift his dreams—or even blessed death—had bestowed.

“Goddammit, Seamus. He’s been out for hours and you said _45 minutes._ Tops _.”_

_Seamus?_

He felt a cool hand settle on his chest, but still couldn’t open his eyes. “He’s in the Future That Cannot Be. The transition back to the Living World is difficult. You can _try_ the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ thing …”

Her answering laugh echoed through his very soul. God, he missed her so.

“Sure. Why not?” He could almost see her square her shoulders … and then impossibly soft lips touched his forehead.

“Lieutenant ….” he murmured.

“There you are.” She kissed his forehead again. “I’m here. Seamus is here. You’re safe.”

The strange fog of confusion clinging to consciousness finally burned off. His eyelids fluttered open and her face—blurry but beautiful—filled his vision.

“You’re here.” He couldn’t stop the tears filling his eyes.

“Yep. Hold on—I’ll get you some water. You might feel a bit woozy.”

* * *

“I’ll leave you to it.” Seamus pulled on his coat and took one last look at Crane—now fully awake and bundled on the couch—over her head. “Coffee always helps ease the Return, by the way.”

Abbie gave him a quick smile. “Thanks. We’ll … be in touch.”

“Next time, it’ll be your turn to work on your powers.”

She made a non-committal noise and shut the door behind the shaman. Taking a deep breath—her partner was visibly shaken enough to have her feeling more than a little anxious—she crossed back across the room and stopped behind him to lay a steadying hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t look up.

“You okay, Crane?”

“Not especially.”

At least he was being truthful.

“Seeing as how we’re trying to stay ahead of the forces of evil … we’ve gotta talk about this.”

He chuckled, but with no real mirth. “In that case, do not, under any circumstances, allow me to cut all of my hair off. It looks dreadful.”

“So that’s what you learned from visiting the darkest timeline, Samson?” She tugged on a few strands for emphasis.

He reached for her hand and held it, pressed against his cheek under his own. He stayed silent for several long moments.

“I cannot unsee what I have seen, Lieutenant.”

Usually not prone to panic, something in his tone made Abbie’s heart thunder in her chest. Until now, she’d been able to hold off on imagining what the worst-case scenario looked like, what twisted shit they might find themselves in.

“Did we fail?” she asked quietly.

“I did. _I_ failed you.”

He leaned into her and she let him. “Well, it’s not a prophecy, Crane. It’s just … the worst that could happen. Who knows? Could be, I don’t know, that it’s more likely I get struck by lightning the second I walk out to my car than whatever happened in your vision comes to pass.”

“Abbie, do not jest about losing your life.”

She felt caught, pinned by his use of her name, and wanted desperately to lighten the mood, tease him and say, _So, you ditch the ponytail, and I die? That it? Cute._ But she didn’t.

Instead, she pried her hand from his grasp and moved around the couch to perch next to him. “Okay. What do we do? Hints on what we’ll face? We can start off easy.”

“That is … not what is important.”

“I think knowing what’s coming for us next is pretty damn important.”

Since coming to, he’d seemed a little stoned. Now, though, clear, bright eyes were fixed and focused on her.

“You are intentionally misunderstanding me—”

“—excuse me?”

“—you are intentionally misunderstanding me in order to avoid talking about aspects of my recent experience that you might find uncomfortable. Although you don’t know the half of it, considering you didn’t experience them.”

“Yeah, we are _not_ having an argument about something that _hasn’t happened_ and _probably never will._ ”

“No, it never will. I will see to that. However, be that as it may, I still _remember_ it.”

Frustrated that he seemed both keen to talk about his vision and far too stubborn to divulge anything beyond vague details, she bit her tongue.

Well, she tried.

“ _It_ being me dying. Just so we’re totally clear.”

“And before. And after.”

“Crane, if it comes down to saving the wo—“

“—we shall be victorious or defeated _together._ I did not make that promise lightly before, and I do not vow it again now merely to speak words into the air. I pledge to you, Abbie, my life, my honor, any thing I can provide for you, any way I can protect you. My last breath will be drawn at your side; however our circumstances might evolve, I assure you of that.”

“Please cool it with the eternal-promise wedding-vow stuff,” she whispered, blinking at the wall and working to keep the hard—scared—edge out of her voice.

“I shall not.”

“You’re unnerving me, Crane.”

“Good.” He stood up abruptly, sloughing his blanket wrap. “We both need to be rousted out of our ‘comfort zones,’ as you would say.”

Abbie shook her head, still unwilling to look up at him. “Using my own words against me.”

“You do not disagree, which is all that matters. I think we should take a trip, get ourselves out of Sleepy Hollow. I have seen almost nothing of this nation that I helped to found, and I should like very much to visit the capital. What better time to go than now?”

“Um, I haven’t put in any vacation?”

“Reyes will understand.” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers to encourage her to take it. “I am not going alone.”


End file.
